


Married but not; a kiss but not

by qwertysweetea



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Hannibal Loves Will, Kissing, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Secret Identity, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 10:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: Something was different today. The music, the soft lighting, the suits; that they were staring the second dance at an occasion which would see them seek a dance partner out of the women who secretly craved their attention; that it had been Will who had found the deep-buried want to ask for his husband's hand a second time.“Have you noticed how we are forever skirting the edge, never quite falling in but both secretly wanting to?” Will mused, lifting his head off the other’s shoulder.Happy Valentine's day, have some Murder Husband fluff.





	Married but not; a kiss but not

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal and Will are living as husbands amongst the French elite as Alec and Marcus respectively.

In public they were the sophisticated, educated couple who held extravagant dinner parties and danced like they had been professionally trained to woo the bored housewives of the elite. It had been far easier to slip into that role than Will cared to admit.

Hannibal would take his hand and the rest was as natural as breathing; he played the part of the husband as well as he always had. Manipulation was easy when the people you’re manipulating do half the job for you, and the rest was just that… breathing, smiling, dancing, glancing, touching, kissing. In love. In love. Married, blissfully.

Will felt that he could have been in training for this all his life.

He couldn’t say that their home life differed too much from their public presentation either; Alec and Marcus had always just been Hannibal and Will from a different world, the domesticated version… the _normal_ version. They had stepped across the edge that their true selves hadn’t.

Something was different today. The music, the soft lighting, the suits; that they were sharing the second dance at an occasion which would usually see them seeking a dance partner out of the women who secretly craved their attention; that it had been Will who had found the deep-buried want to ask for his husband’s hand a second time; that Hannibal had politely relinquished the hand of the lady he danced with, without thought or hesitation, to take Will’s.

“Have you noticed how we are forever skirting the edge, never quite falling in but both secretly wanting to?” Will mused, lifting his head off the other’s shoulder. He saw Alec disappear out of Hannibal’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s been so long now neither of us really believe the fall will be as satisfying as the build-up to it.”

Hannibal’s hand flexed slightly on his waist and his jaw pulsed with tension as he quickly regained himself. It felt too easy to fall apart now he didn’t have Alec as a buffer, now that Will was in his arms. He felt as though Will’s words were stripping him. “It so rarely is. There is a time when the mystery brings more satisfaction than acting on it ever could.”

“We seem to have made a home there. Intellectual consummation, emotional… physical.” As it dripped off his lips his mind flashed with the slick blackness of blood at their Cliffside moment. No amount of physical contact or flirtatious understanding had or would come close to rivaling it. Physical consummation in its purest form, both utterly bare before the other, submitting to the other’s gaze and finding nothing but need in their eyes.

“Married but not, a kiss but not, in love but not; enough of a snapshot of that domestic bliss to sate the curiosity you know is forever bubbling inside of me but not enough to drive me away with horror. Until now…”

“Until now,” Hannibal confirmed, “and yet you aren’t running.”

“It’s been almost three years. We’ve been together almost as long as we were apart, living between two worlds and being content in both, so close to toppling. Maybe I’m curious about what will happen when we do.”

Slowly their movements stopped, and Will sensed that they were stood on the outskirts of the dancers, surrounded by company who strived to give them as private a moment as they could manage in the quaint ballroom.

Hannibal raised his fist to the other’s face, thumb tracing the raised scar on his cheek, knuckles grazing lightly along his jaw as it moved down. They trailed to his chin, then back across his jaw. Methodical and slow, it was almost soothing.

He was mapping out his face, truly looking at it for the first time in the way he had wanted to for all the years he had wanted to know him like this. It didn’t feel to Hannibal like he had denied himself until he had started, and now that is all it felt like: like he had been waiting, longing, missing.

Will allowed him his moment and found that while he was wondering if Hannibal was seeing anything new, he was holding his breath. When he released it, it trembled. It matched the uncertainty on Hannibal’s face, even if his mind had never been so clear.

Will’s was quiet too. It was easy, even now, to shut off around the other and allow himself to feel as he feels. It never failed to be liberating. Now he could appreciate how truly liberating it was.

His skin felt on fire everywhere he was touched, and yet he barely registered the hand curving around the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his curls with all the care of the surgeon Hannibal had left behind in America.

Hannibal leaned in, soft lips brushing his chapped ones. Hesitation for a second, then it was gone, and the press was firm and consuming.

Will pushed back into it, matching the other unconsciously in strength and desire. Everything about it was familiar, and in the most affirming way, because it was in no way compatible to those Alec and Marcus shared.

The familiarity felt as though it had always been there, lurking and waiting for it’s moment. It was the familiarity Will had felt the first time they had cooked together, when he answered the phone and knew he wanted him to run, when he woke up to him at the end of his bed, at the Cliffside; another part of the same journey. Them, utterly.

When it ending moments later, Will almost followed back into it. Having to catch himself was jarring, far more jarring than realising he didn’t want to catch himself at all.

“Will you run?” It was breathless, utterly terrified, and Hannibal made no attempt to hide his vulnerability. They stood there once again, completely bare for the other, full of love and fear. It was beautiful.

“No.” Will breathed back, a smile playing on his lips “Never.”


End file.
